Don't Worry, I Don't Bite
by Sardonic Kitten
Summary: When Seto Kaiba accidentally uploads his memories into a girl at his school, and she begans to hear voices and share his dreams, he finds himself questioning things he had never before thought to question. SetoxOC (Rated for psychotic behaviour, swearing,


_**Don't Worry, I Don't Bite**_

_**Sardonic Kitten**_

_**Chapter One:**_

_**Oops...**_

I rolled out of bed, burnt copper, pale white-gold, and ash brown hair tangled and sticking up in directions that I didn't even _know_ were possible. Yawning, and feeling- with a little pleasure- my jaws make a 'crack' as it stretched, I sat up on the short, bristly tan carpet that had come with my apartment. My cheap, rathole apartment, nestled in downtown Domino. Whoopdee frickin' doo.

Why, in the name of all that the mighty Kami-sama stands for, do I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning to get out of my rathole apartment to go to my rathole school, you ask?

Because it takes an hour for me to wake up in the first place.

Glancing in the mirror, I stared dryly at my reflection, with it's sleepy green-hazel eyes, flat cheekbones, full lips that- in my opinion- are too perfect for the rest of my face, and sleek golden skin.

And lots and lots of **_hair_**.

Always the _hair. _Always. Thick, chunky streaks of copper and white-gold in ash brown hair that is almost- not quite!- almost blonde have quite the effect on people. A funny effect at that.

At fifteen, I was as a lazy, aggressively independent, stubborn son of a bitch as you'd ever not want to meet. I haven't changed much from then, I suppose.

Anyway, it all started when I rolled out of bed that morning, literally beside myself with joy that it was Friday. Well, almost.

* * *

I had strode into my first period class, and for perhaps the first time that year, I wasn't late. Or in trouble. And my famous bad luck hadn't flared up either.

...Right up until I ran into him. Then things got messy.

Seto Kaiba, grad student, and corporate big-shot. Not that I cared. I was a hormone-driven rebel teen in a skirt too short for my tastes and a hot pink thong that I didn't particularly like showing the world. So, as you can imagine, I got a little peeved when I fell on my ass with my legs splayed.

"Watch where your going, asshole!" I yelled, flustered and attempting push my skirt down so that it would cover me. I met him eye to eye, and was shocked.

The girls in my class giggled about him all the time while the teacher wasn't looking, sure, but 1) they didn't have particularly spectacular taste when it came to men, and 2) after a while, you start to view the person as someone untouchable- inhuman and without substance.

Oh, on here, on this fact, those girls had _fantastic _taste, and I was feeling the substance of him on the throbbing of my nose where I ran into him.

He was gorgeous, and very, very real.

With simmering dark blue eyes and thick chestnut hair framing a thin face with beautiful, high cheekbones and a long, slim nose in my sights, I did what most other girls don't do.

I felt threatened.

"You ran into me, makeinu," he said to me quietly, turning away with cold, hard grace. I jumped to my feet and blocked his path, feeling a little light headed and not really understanding what I was getting into. I was high on jealousy.

It may sound foolish, but I had always wanted those high, beautiful effeminate cheekbones and graceful features. Not to mention blue eyes. I had always, since the day I was born, wanted blue eyes, blue eyes that shone like a light in the depth of the sea. I felt as if he had stolen something from me, and that confused me even more. And I _hate _being confused. And so I grew angrier.

"Watch it, honey," I growled, sounding far less menacing than I felt I had the right to sound. "The only dogs here are the ones the little brown-haired kind barking harmlessly and snapping at peoples heels."

He matched my glare, and with speed I had no idea was possible, grabbed me by the front of my shirt. "You will hold your tongue, inu, or you will pay for your insolence," he said calmly to me, voice a cold, frigid breeze in the hot breath on my face. I narrowed my eyes and swatted his hand off of my shirt angrily.

For a brief moment, his lips curled up into a smirk- one that scared me more than any words he could have said. It was predatory and calculating, and for the moment, that one, single moment, there was a terror inside me that I hadn't felt since I was a little girl- a terror mixed with a morbid curiosity. A terror that I had last felt when I saw the cuts on best friend's legs from where she had been attacked by a rottweiler.

Seto Kaiba was no puppy, or little dog. Seto Kaiba was a rottweiler, just like the one that had attacked my friend.

And I was that little girl, crying and bleeding because she hadn't known not to unhook the fence, screaming as the dog tore at the tendons in the my leg.

And that infuriated me.

* * *

I stabbed the inedible looking piece of something on my tray in the cafeteria with my fork, too angry and violent to properly ingest anything.

**HE** was there, sitting in the corner, looking perfect with those blue eyes, long legs crossed as one delicate finger turned a page of the novel he was reading. He looked so... calm. And that bugged me.

Rising to my feet, I laced me fingers together and pushed them outwards, causing them to create a thick snapping sound. I grinned as the girls at the tables around me- not at my table, of course, me being the social outcast I was- cringed and 'Eewed' at the noise. I strode over to his table confidently, and smashed my palms flat down onto the table.

He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Kaiba-s-s-senpai," I struggled, attempting not to call him something near an expletive. Opening my mouth to speak, all words on my tongue failed. I had nothing to say, nothing to voice my foolish, incredibly stupid rage. Kami-sama, I think I was suffering from world-record PMS that day.

He beckoned to me. "Come with me." His voice was soft, with a kind of cold persuasion that sent shivers under my skin. Without knowing why, I did. I followed.

God, I was such an idiot that day.

_

* * *

_

"Here," he said, handing me a pair of wires. I raised my eyebrow at him. "Don't let them touch."

Me, of course, being the rebel I was, brought the two cords dangerously close together.

Memories, millions of memories. Being chained to desk, feeling the cold heavy weight on my wrists- watching my little brother Mokuba be bullied by the other boys at the orphanage and despising them for it- taking over my stepfather's company and watching my stepfather break down into a wreck of a man- and finally, myself, pink thong and all, lean, attractive legs splayed and face flushed red- skirt being pushed down by lean, slender hands. I wanted to-

I tore the wires away from each other, feeling my hair settling back down on my neck. I was soaked with sweat. Seto Kaiba was staring at me with those smirking blue eyes, and, to my surprise, I didn't want to gouge them out. They were actually... rather beautiful.

"I told you not to." He stated dryly, obviously amused. "Did you enjoy the shock it gave you?"

Strangely enough, I found myself laughing. It felt so... good. He looked at me in muted surprise.

"Are you well?"

"I'm fine," I said, a smile breaking easy on my face. I didn't know why, but it just felt so right. Just to let the pain slide away and cover it with a mask, to become that mask and just forget. "But why was I hiding under the stairs? 4-1-3?"

Seto Kaiba's fingers stopped dead on the keyboard of his laptop, and those pretty blue eyes fixed on a point somewhere far away. His voice was tight and icy.

"How do you know about 4-1-3?"

_

* * *

_


End file.
